


Waiting

by Felceris



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-22
Updated: 2013-11-22
Packaged: 2018-01-02 08:14:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1054517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Felceris/pseuds/Felceris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jemma remembers the times Grant has left her waiting. Short one shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waiting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TinyBat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinyBat/gifts).



> Yeah, not really sure what I think about this. It's based off of a convo with Amanda, and some sad song feels. Also, it gave me a reason to avoid writing the next chapter of DNP. So there is that.

It felt like she had been waiting for him her entire life, literally and figuratively. The funny thing was, she knew he would say the same thing about her. In her own way, she had known he’d be late today, too.

As she sat there listening to the murmurs of the other women in the room, letting her mum pull and twist at her hair, Jemma thought back to the most wonderful days of her life; the days that brought her to this day, which would surely be the best of all. Those days seemed to always come after having waited for him. Sometimes she waited for mere minutes, other times she waited for days, even for weeks. Somehow he was always late, yet still she waited. She would always wait for him, for she knew he would always make it in the end.

Two years ago, he had arrived forty-five minutes late to their first date, which had been a disaster. Later, they decided that they shouldn’t even have called it a date in the first place. It completely set them up for an evening full of awkward conversation and unintentional insults. It had been a complete mess for the most part, but she wouldn’t change a single second of it. She could still feel the little thrill that had run up her spine when she saw him enter the restaurant looking as uncomfortable as she felt. 

 _“You’re late, Agent Ward”_ She’d said as soon as he'd stepped up to their table.

_“Sorry. I… uh. Well, Skye didn’t let me leave until she approved of my choice of clothing. I changed my tie six times.”_

When he had smiled at her shyly, she’d realized that he was as nervous as her. Dinner started off well enough, until he had unintentionally insulted her dress, and she had accidentally insulted his intelligence. Then, her traitorous hand knocked the red wine across the table, which resulted in her jumping from the table suddenly. She had twisted her ankle and broken her shoe, which ended their dinner. He had carried her from the restaurant, which really was a wonderful moment… until his phone slipped from his pocket and into a puddle.  At that point, Jemma had given up and asked him to take her back to the bus.

Still, he’d tried to salvage their date. Instead of returning her to her room, he had taken her to the communal lounge. He asked, no, he’d  _told_  her, that they would watch a movie. Her choice. She had chosen Tangled, which she knew he secretly enjoyed to this day. Their evening had ended much more peacefully than it had begun; they fell asleep on the couch wrapped in each other’s arms. 

She smiled to herself as she recalled how it had felt to wake the following morning, his arms still holding her close. She had never felt safer in her life, and forgave the previous night’s tardiness.

A few short weeks after the disastrously perfect first date, he had been late yet again. The team was on a mission in the jungles of Tanzania, and he was seven hours late to the checkpoint. She had worried about the many dangerous possibilities, the harm waited in the unfamiliar jungle. Finally Fitz had shaken her hard and told her to calm down.  It turned out he had taken a side mission, approved by Coulson, and had gone searching for a West Usambara two-horned chameleon that she had later dubbed Pascal.  Still, he had ended up with a hideous rash, a few sutures from an “encounter” with rebels, and an angry scolding for making her worry. 

Several months after their adventure in the jungle, he’d made her wait five days for their first anniversary celebration. All she had been told was that his mission would take longer than initially believed to be necessary, but that he wasn’t in danger. So she waited, and she worried. 

She remembered the feeling of relief when she had opened to door to find him standing there, breathless as if he had just run miles. Later she had found out that he’d run until he was there at her door. He’d run until he was pulling her into his arms and holding her close. He’d run until she wasn’t waiting anymore.

“Your hair’s done, love.” Her mother’s voice broke into her memories. “You are so beautiful.” Her mum told her, smiling at her warmly. 

She didn’t look like herself. She didn’t feel like herself. The girl in the mirror looked so beautiful, so calm. Everything other than what she really felt. 

“Let’s get you into your dress.” Her mum told her gently, lifting said dress by its hanger. She noticed dimly that it really was quite a beautiful dress. 

Jemma thought of him standing there on her doorstep, around a year ago, filling the door with his presence.

 _“You’re late,”_  she had said, and he’d grinned at her. He hadn’t said anything, just grinned at her like a bloody loon. Before she could ask him why he looked so daft, he had dropped to his knee and then she couldn’t say anything at all. She’d just stared at him as he asked her that very special question. Those four little words, and the waiting was forgiven yet again.

“Jemma.” She heard him call her name, but realized instead that it was her mum. She looked at her, confused. “Jemma, it’s time.”

Jemma nodded and rose to finally dress herself. As she stepped into her dress, she recalled a far different day. A day everything had changed.

She had been waiting, as usual, for him to pick her up. He’d called to tell her that he’d be later than expected. It didn’t matter why. Not to her. She knew, and she accepted, that he would always be that person. He would always be saving the day; he would always be late. She loved him for it, so couldn’t ask him to be anything else.

She’d heard the doorbell, and thought it odd that he would ring it. He usually came straight in. She laughed as she pulled the door open,  _“You’re late, Grant.”_

But it hadn’t been him at the door. She’d stared at Agent Coulson, confused for only a moment.

  _“I’m so sorry, Jemma.”_

They were the four words she’d never wanted to hear. The four words she hated more than any other. She didn’t hear anything else that Coulson said. She couldn’t hear anything at all beyond the crashing in her head. She heard somebody screaming. Somebody crying. She realized later that it had been her making those desperate sounds.

She looked at her mother and smiled a small, sad smile. “He’s not coming, is he?”

She didn’t need to hear her mother’s answer to know the truth. She knew the truth she just couldn’t understand it. She couldn’t accept it.

She should have married him today. She should have walked down the aisle to find him waiting for her, watching her, loving her. Instead she’d go to the church, the one he’d chosen for the ceremony. Instead of him standing there, smiling at her, waiting to start their life together, she’d find him in a box, waiting for her to put him in the ground.  Waiting for her to say goodbye.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this. 

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think!


End file.
